Rite of Passage, No Left Turn
by The Original Marisa
Summary: G1, oneshot. Spike goes for his driver's license.


Rite of Passage, No Left Turn

By Marisa

---

"All right, Spike. . . ease up on the accelerator just a bit, you're going too fast. Tap the brake, you can just - Bumblebee, _quit helping him_!"

The yellow Volkswagen slowed, but kept moving. "Sorry, Sparkplug," Bumblebee sighed, "but he's making me nervous."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. That really bumped up my confidence," Spike growled, gripping the steering wheel tightly and glaring daggers at his father, who was sitting to his right in the passenger seat. "You know, I don't _need_ to get my license. I can just get a ride from Bee if I need to get somewhere."

"All right, Bee, we can stop for today, he's obviously not going to try. Spike, you're not being fair to-"

"I don't mind," Bee piped, as he back into the parking lot of the apartment complex where Spike and his father lived, "honestly. Spike's my friend, I'm always here for him if he needs me."

"I know," Sparkplug sighed, as the Volkswagen slowed to a stop, "And I feel a lot better knowing that, but _still._ You've got your own responsibilities with the Autobots, and that's top priority." He paused, getting out of the car as Spike did the same. "Besides, Spike," Sparkplug glanced over at his son, "what are you going to do a few years from now? You can't take Bumblebee to college with you." As if to accentuate his point, Bumblebee transformed back into Autobot mode, not fazing either of the two humans standing beside him. One passer-by stared in wonder, but quickly walked on.

Spike shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Maybe I won't _go_ to college."

"Well you're not living with _me_ for the rest of your life," Sparkplug crossed his arms, "so good luck when you're twenty-one and can't find a job."

"_You_ managed just fine."

"I was in Korea. I don't think 'manage' is quite the word." He scowled, then turned and smiled at Bumblebee. "Thanks for the ride."

"And the lesson," Spike smiled and waved, "even if I still have to bum rides off you."

"Well, you've gotten better," Bumblebee gave a half smile, "you haven't sent me to Ratchet since last week."

"Yeah. . . sorry about that."

"Bah, we were both a little nervous. And it wasn't too much damage, and I-"

"Spike," interrupted the man, tapping at the door he was holding open, "it's getting cold out."

The boy turned and waved his father away. "I've got a key, you go on ahead."

"Suit yourself." Sparkplug turned and headed up the stairs, letting the door shut behind him. After a moment, Spike turned back to his friend and smiled.

"Actually, I was hoping you could help me out with getting my license a bit more. You know, just to get my dad off my back and all that. What are you doing Thursday afternoon. . .?"

-

---------------

-

Spike shifted nervously, fiddling with the seat belt and glancing over at the woman to his right. She was scribbling at a clipboard in his arms, tilted just so Spike couldn't see. He glanced at the dashboard, randomly reading various meters and dials, then glanced back at her. She had short-cropped blonde hair and was dressed in a clean, smooth uniform, with a tight, angular face.

He wrung his hands, staring down in his lap. How long had it been? It seemed like hours. Glancing up at the clock, Spike found that not even a minute had passed since the car stopped. _Man, I really _am _nervous._

"Well, Mister Witwicky," the woman announced finally, tapping the clipboard with her pen, "I think we're through here."

Spike looked over at her. "A-and?"

"It was practically a perfect score!" she said with a smile, "Now, if you can just provide me with the proper forms of identification, I can issue a license."

Spike sighed with relief. "But didn't I show you my birth certificate and stuff before we started the test?"

She stared over at him for a moment, her smile somehow morphing into a smug grin. "I wasn't talking about _you,_" she explained, "I'm talking about the Autobot we're sitting in."

The boy's mouth opened, but no words emerged. There was a long moment of silence.

"Um, Spike," came Bumblebee's voice from seemingly all around the two, "I think the jig is up."

"Honey," she laughed, "it was up when I saw the symbol on the hood of the car."

Spike bowed his head in defeat. _I knew we should have covered that up._


End file.
